“I thought you might need rescuing, but I see, as usual, Merrick has taken care of that.” He smiled engagingly at her and winked. “Would you be interested in an escort? I even brought horses.”
“What are you doing here, Kirk?” Simon asked again in a quiet voice, his unease growing by leaps and bounds. Dread, such as he had never experienced gripped him.
Kirk looked at him in surprise. “I would think it obvious. I’m here to help you.”
“But what about Bonaparte? Have you warned the regent? Sent word to Vienna?”
Kirk shook his head. “It wasn’t necessary. I was able to determine that your theory wasn’t correct. Not only is his escape impossible, he would be a fool to attempt it.”
“But did you warn the regent?” Simon persisted.
Kirk looked him dead in the eye. “No.”
Simon tightened his lips. Something about this whole scene didn’t sit well with him. His instincts screamed at him from every direction, but he was unable to give a reason for his uneasiness. Except that Kirk shouldn’t be here.
“Were you successful in your quest, Your Highness?” Kirk asked, turning to Isabella. “Did you recover the relics?”
She cocked her head and glanced sideways at Kirk, a puzzled expression on her face. And then the ugly truth hit Simon square in the stomach.
Before she could respond, Simon pulled her back, easing in front of her. “What do you know of the relics?” he asked lightly.
Kirk arched an eyebrow. “Full of questions aren’t we, Merrick? Do I even get thanks for assisting you?”
“Answer me,” he ordered. “How did you know about the relics? Neither the princess nor I have ever mentioned them to you.”
The gregarious light completely died in Kirk’s eyes. “I don’t like your tone, Merrick,” he said tightly.
“Why are you here?” Simon asked softly.
“I’ve already answered that question.”
“Not to my satisfaction.”
“What do you want from me?” Kirk snapped.
“How deeply are you in this, Kirk?”
Simon watched as anger flashed in Kirk’s eyes. His face tightened, and Simon knew he was right in his suspicions. Anguish such that he hadn’t felt even when his brother and father died assailed him, nearly robbing him of breath.
“I see your mind is made up,” Kirk said coldly. “There is no need to deny it.”
Simon closed his eyes. “Why, Kirk.Why?”
“What is going on?” Isabella demanded.
Kirk pulled a gun from the pocket of his coat and pointed it at them. “What is going on, Your Highness, is that you will hand over the relics to me, or I will not hesitate to shoot you.”
Simon struggled with his inability to comprehend that Kirk was a traitor. Had he been involved all along? Had he anything to do with Isabella’s family’s death? Bile rose in his throat. He had trusted this man. Counted him as a brother. He had been a blind fool.
“I don’t know what you have to gain in all of this,” Isabella hissed. “But if you think I am going to let some English traitor dictate the course of my country, you are mistaken.”
“You think you can stop me?” he sneered. He inched closer, waving the gun threateningly. “Now hand over the relics.”
“She doesn’t have them,” Simon interjected.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I failed,” she said. “I was unable to retrieve the relics.”
